The Angel's Kiss
by Miss Muse Clues
Summary: The first thing the Reverend Timothy Johnson sees when he gets his sight back is the face of an angel…or Lucile Greene, a drifter trapped in Colorado Springs after being kicked off a train from New York. When Preston Lodge III sets his sights on Lucile, Timothy finds himself needing to cast his natural shyness aside if he wants to finally win a woman's love.
1. A Miracle

It was nothing short of a miracle of God.

One moment, Timothy was slipping and falling backwards on a patch of mud from last night's downpours, the next he was blinking and coming to…and he could see something other than blackness.

Dr. Mike said it was impossible. There was no cure for his blindness, and there probably never would be. It didn't even make sense. The Reverend's blindness was caused by an illness, not a conk on the head. How did it suddenly become possible to see again after a fall?

Not that this was what was on his mind as Timothy blinked the world into existence for the first time in two years…

…it was her face.

"Are you alright?"

Standing over Timothy as he lie stunned in the dirt was a young woman, about twenty-five years old. Her hair was unruly and red, redder than even Dorothy's hair. Not to mention, it was a tangled mass of twine about her shoulders, as opposed to Dorothy's usual neat, tidy hairstyle. She had a round face and a high-necked purple collar. Her eye color was undiscernible because of the angle of the sun. And she was nothing sort of radiant.

"I…." was all Timothy could manage to squeak out. This was all too much to take in. From his point of view, the sun formed a halo around the woman's head. "…can see."

"Oh no," the woman muttered. Timothy could feel more boot steps approaching him. His head began to throb. The next voice that joined hers' was more familiar, and through the haze, Timothy could make out Jake Slicker.

"Reverend, you ok?"

"We should get him to Doctor Quinn," said a third voice…it had to be Teresa Slicker's.

"Where is he, then? Someone hurry!" said the voice belonging to the red haired stranger.

"Wait just a moment, Miss!" chimed in a fourth voice. The woman's face was pulled out of the tunnel of the Reverend's vision as she was helped to her feet by Preston Lodge III. "I'm sure he's ok. The Reverend Johnson's taken more than his share of falls and injuries over the years, I'm sure."

"Jake? Preston?" Timothy muttered, still overwhelmed. "I can see you!"

Silence.

"I thought the Doctor said that was not possible," Teresa said softly.

"She did," Jake replied. "Where is she?"

"Maybe Brian will know, he was just at the general store," Teresa replied before whisking herself off in that direction.

"Don't sit up just yet, Reverend," Jake advised. He looked up at Preston, still holding his grip on the strange woman's shoulder. "That what she would say, right?"

"Who's she?" the woman asked quickly.

"The Doc," Preston answered. "I think the question is…who are you, Miss?" There was an obviously flirtatious tone to his voice.

That was when Timothy couldn't stand the headache any longer, and fell back into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Reverend? Reverend? Can you hear me?" asked a soft, gentle, very familiar voice…one that used to make Timothy's heart flutter.

"Dr. Quinn?" he moaned, trying to move. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I don't want you moving just yet. I'm pretty sure you've suffered a concussion. You hit your head on a stone when you fell down."

To Timothy's amazement, it wasn't a dream. The world was coming into focus around him again, like it used to before his illness took his sight in the first place. Michaela Quinn's clinic looked almost exactly as he remembered it. And Michaela herself was still as pretty as he remembered.

She stared down at him with a queer look in her eye. "I thought Jake wasn't being serious. Is…is your vision clear? Blurred? Colored?"

Timothy smiled. "Dr. Quinn, I can see you. You're a little blurred."

"This is quite…miraculous. You might just need some spectacles to help with the blur…but I don't understand. You didn't lose your vision due to injury!" She seemed both happy and confused. It made her skin glow.

"Am I going to be alright?"

"I should think so. You're concussed for sure, but I am confident that things are going to be fine. I'd like to keep you here in the clinic for a few hours to monitor you, but if everything seems normal, I will be able to send you home by suppertime." Michaela reached for two sterile-white pillows in a cabinet above her head. "Do you think you can stand me propping your head up? It will make it a little easier to stay awake until the immediate danger has passed."

"Yes, thank you," Timothy said. Michaela gingerly propped his head and shoulder onto the extra pillows. This only made his head throb a little more. He moaned.

"If you'd like, I'll make you a cup of willow bark tea. It might help with the pain you feel," Michaela suggested.

"I would like that, Doctor. Thank you."

A few minutes went by as the Doctor brewed the tea. Timothy took a slow moment just taking in the fact that, aside from some blurring, he could, in fact, see again! What a miracle, indeed!

"Praise the Lord," he muttered to himself. _Perhaps I can ask Michaela to bring a Bible so I could study it while I wait for release…_

Some movement drew his gaze to the window as he thought. With their backs to the window, Preston Lodge III was still talking with the red-haired angel who'd found Timothy first. He couldn't make out the conversation, not that it was his business anyways.

He couldn't help but notice how long her tangled tresses ran…to the small of her back. She appeared almost as tall as Preston, and her lavender-colored dress offset the warm hues of her hair, making her stand out all the more.

_Glory Be to God,_ he thought. _I am healed, and He has sent an angel to see His Will be done…_

* * *

"I saw you being shoved off the train earlier" Preston Lodge III said softly. "Stowaway? Runaway? Abusive husband at home? Or—"

"—I'm a wanderer, I suppose," the woman replied. "I have no family, no husband, no children. I was staying and working in a boarding house in Brooklyn until about two weeks ago."

"I see, and what brings you out west?"

"Opportunity," she replied blunting to Preston's pressing questions.

"Well, welcome, Miss—"

"—Lucile. Lucile Greene."

Preston grinned widely. "Welcome to town, Miss Greene. I think Colorado Springs just got a little prettier!"


	2. First Sunday

_**Three Days Later…**_

Lucy really needed to find work or move on soon. Colorado Springs didn't have nearly as much opportunity as she had seen upon arrival. She was beginning to run out of money for her lodging and food.

She donned the only 'Sunday' dress she had (and one of only two she owned entirely), a jade-green calico frock that was a little snug in the chest. Lucy wished she had a shawl to wrap over her rather large breasts, but that cost money…money she presently needed to ensure that she wouldn't be spending Tuesday night sleeping in the gutter or on the porch of the telegraph office. Binding her merciless tangles as best she could into a loose braid, Lucy figured that if she didn't look like an acceptable employee today, she might as well run off into the woods and try to live off the land.

The township seemed to have a bit more hesitation towards accepting strangers than Brooklyn. The General Store already had enough women working in it (and the older man running the place seemed skeptical to taking in a drifter), the school had a teacher, and the only other place that seemed to hire women at all was The Gold Nugget…and Lucy refused to work as a harlot to make ends meet.

But where else could she go? The train conductor told her not to bother sneaking aboard again…he would tell everyone on the rails to beware of a red-haired woman without a ticket. She couldn't hire a stage coach. She only had enough money for two more nights unless she found a job.

This was her last chance…she approached the black woman who ran the outdoor café as the general public gravitated towards the church house just outside of the main street. The woman had a young boy on her shoulder…she always seemed like she could not physically bring herself to let the babe go. Her husband always walked at her side when he wasn't working as a blacksmith.

"Excuse me! Mrs…Mrs…" Lucy realized she didn't even know the café owner's name. Instead, she dashed to catch up with the family. Finally, the woman turned her head about a hundred feet from the church.

"May I help you?" The woman had a graceful, smooth Southern drawl.

"Yes, you run the café?" asked Lucy.

"I do indeed," the woman replied.

"Ma'am, my name is Lucile, and I really need some work. I'm new in town and I've been looking all week—"

"—I don't know. It's taken two years to get up on our feet after the bank crash, and we're just now getting back to normal!" The woman looked to her companion/husband's face for advice on what to say next.

"Please? Please, ma'am?" Lucy found herself begging. "In two days I'll be out of money, and I have no way out of town right now."

The woman looked at her husband, then down to her son, who was drowsily napping on her shoulder.

"Well, I always try to help a woman in need," she mumbled. "Do you mind if I start you on the breakfast and lunch shifts? It's a lot to deal with, but the tips are usually better. I'll let you keep half to start, and if you do well after a month, I'll let you keep all of your tips. Is that a deal?"

Lucy nodded eagerly. The woman extended her free hand to shake Lucy's.

"You can call me Grace, Lucile. And this is my husband, Robert E, and our son Solomon."

"If you wish, you can call me Lucy," Lucy replied.

"I hope I can trust you to work hard," Grace said. "I don't usually hire people I don't know!"

"My last job was in a boarding house in Brooklyn. I was their maid in return for food and board."

"Then you should catch on quickly. Waiting tables and washing dishes isn't much different," Grace said, smiling cautiously. "Are you headed to service?"

Lucy shrugged. "I suppose I should."

"There's a church picnic right after. I can introduce you to some of the other townsfolk you might not have met yet," Grace offered. Lucy nodded.

"Well, pleasure to meet you, Lucy," Robert E chimed in with a warm smile. "We'd better hurry up, or we'll be late!"

As if on a cue, the sound of a congregation singing 'Bringing in the Sheaths' echoed from the church, the door still slightly ajar to allow stragglers in. Grace and Robert E picked up their pace, but Lucy dawdled a second longer.

_Well, at least now I have livelihood. She seems nice. I just hope the others around here are a just as open-minded. _

The morning was cool for an early-spring day, so it struck Lucy as odd off-hand for there to be a picnic scheduled. The dew on the short grass as well as the mud from the dirt road had already soaked through the old brown boots Lucy wore under her green dress. But the day was bright and blue. There weren't tall metal building obscuring the sun from warming her face like there were in Hell's Kitchen, no smoke from the factories and mills. It was quieter too, and more peaceful in spite of the loud crescendo of the hymn wafting around in the air. She could stand there all morning…

Before her mind began wandering (again), Lucy snapped out of her trance and quickly climbed up the steps into the church.

The first thing Lucy saw was how small the house was. There was hardly any room left in even the pews furthest back. The room was uncomfortable and hot, but the joyous sounds of music and prayer helped open the place up a little. Lucy hadn't been to a church service in nearly three years, since her brother's funeral. She decided to stand against the back wall and hope the Reverend wasn't much for long-winded speeches.

Up the aisle at the front of the room, the Reverend had caught sight of her as she made her way into the back corner of the sanctuary. He had been leading the hymn with a rich, gentle tenor, but he stopped short upon seeing her. Lucy looked around her. Was she supposed to squeeze in somewhere? Was that a rule?

The Reverend himself was younger than Lucy had remembered from her brief encounter with him the moment she arrived in town. He had a short, neat beard, auburn hair, and a very comforting, gentle smile. His eyes seemed to widen, and his expression become animated with some positive emotion Lucy had never seen on a clergyman's face.

The hymn ended, and the Reverend began his service after a pause. Lucy didn't take her eyes off of him the entire time. She could have sworn the Reverend looked in her direction a few more times than was traditional as well…

* * *

By one o'clock that afternoon, the first church picnic of the year was in full swing. The children of the grade school had spent some time making games for everyone to play. Grace was serving up a spread full of grilled meats, fresh corn bread, vegetables, and pound cake with whipped cream. The sun had warmed the air a bit, though it was still a little colder than usual for the time of year. But for Timothy, there was nothing greater than just to be there, under the gaze of the Father and embraced in the love of the Son.

Children laughed and ran around visiting the various games the school had set up. A pair of fiddlers played merrily by the church steps. People smiled and greeted one another.

Among them, the redheaded stranger in her green dress, which was slightly tattered around the skirt hem. Her hair glowed in the sun. Her cheeks were blushed, her dimples pronounced when she smiled. Timothy took a breath and prayed. _Oh Lord, give me the courage to finish what I'm about to start._

She had her back to Timothy has he weaved through the crowd, politely greeting everyone who got between them. She wasn't being very social for being at a picnic.

Timothy cleared his throat. "I…uh…never got a chance to thank you for helping me last Thursday."

She turned around to face him. She had hazel eyes. Hazel eyes that preferred green.

"Oh, Reverend," said the girl, blinking up at him and smiling. "I didn't do very much. The Mayor and his wife got you to the clinic."

Timothy shook his head. "Nevertheless, uh…thank you for finding me. I must admit that…uh…"

"Lucile. My name is Lucile Greene. But I prefer Lucy."

"That's such a—a—lovely name," Timothy said, stuttering. Lucy bowed her head.

"And your name is Johnson….Reverend Johnson," she replied.

"Well, yes, but I'm sure you could call me Tim—"

"—there you are, Lucile!" chimed Preston from nearby. He waved Lucy over, though she didn't move. After a moment, Preston finally sauntered over himself. His gait was so confident, with a twinge of arrogance in spite of his humbled, compromised position in the community.

In turn, Lucile looked back up to Timothy apologetically.

"Lucile, I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me on a walk down by the brook," Preston asked, offering his arm.

"Actually, I was getting to know a few people around here," Lucy declined. "I just got a job helping Grace with her café. So it looks like I'll be here awhile. I figured I'd get to know some of the people."

Preston shrugged. "Many of them aren't used to the finer ways of living like us city children."

"City children?" asked Timothy.

"Oh, didn't she tell you? She's from New York City. I'm from Boston, so we have quite a bit in common. I'm helping her get used to the ways of the west," Preston explained. Lucy smiled up at him.

"Yes, he has been very helpful," she mumbled.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to talk a stroll with me?" he repeated.

Timothy dropped his shoulder. "I understand, I have other—"

"—I'd rather stay here with the Reverend," Lucy stated firmly. "I know you already, Mr. Lodge. But I don't know anything about him yet."

Preston's smile never left his face, but it significantly faded. "Oh, well then. I hope to have that walk with you another time, Lucile." He turned to Timothy. "Reverend," he acknowledged.

"Preston," Timothy replied. Preston turned on his heel and walked further into the crowd. Lucy didn't look back at him. Instead, she looked up at Timothy again and grinned, flashing her beautiful white teeth.

"Come to think of it," she said softly. "I haven't been to the brook yet. Perhaps you'd like to show me?"


	3. By The Brook

The brook babbled gently as Timothy led Lucy down the bankside, further away from the activity back in town. The wind began to pick up, rustling through the leaves, adding to the tranquil rhythm surrounding them both.

"So, my mother and father both died when the flu spread through the neighborhood, when I was eleven. My brother and I both got it, but we both survived. He was a lot older than me, and married, so I lived with him and his wife for a while," Lucy explained to her new friend.

"What made you leave and get work in a boarding house?" Timothy asked.

Lucy shrugged. "My brother and his wife had twins, two loud little boys. I was just another burden on them all, so I left when I was sixteen. Also, I didn't get along with my sister-in-law. She thought I was an attention-seeker, and she would always try and exercise authority over me. I never let her, so that only made things worse."

Timothy nodded silently, thinking on this for a moment while Lucy continued on.

"After nine years of being a maid, I watched a lot of people traveling through the city and heard their stories. I decided that I wanted to do that too. I heard a lot of stories about people who'd found adventure, romance, and memories in the West. So I chose to try California on for size. But I could only afford a train ticket that would take me as far as Kentucky, that's why I got booted off," she concluded her story.

"So, where will you go from here?" Timothy finally asked.

Lucy paused and stopped in her stride, looking pensively over the brook. "I really can't say. I'll get out to San Francisco someday. But I need to make some money while I'm here so I can get there…legally."

Timothy smiled. "Well, Colorado Springs isn't New York, but it's got everything you need in the short term. Good people with good faith—"

"—that's the other thing, Reverend," Lucy interrupted. "I was raised without very much of a religion."

_ Without religion? Good Lord!_ The Reverend thought to himself. _Not that it's completely unimaginable…look at how I was before I found God. _

"Wh…what do you mean?" he decided to ask.

"Growing up in Brooklyn, especially in Hell's Kitchen where everybody is either Catholic or dead, my family decided our faiths were better left up to our own devices. We would attend services in Manhattan whenever we could afford to travel onto the island, but that was usually not more than once a year for Christmas," Lucy explained. "I don't think my father even believed in it at all. My brother sure didn't."

"And yourself?"

Lucy smiled up at her companion, and then back out into the surrounding natural world. "I guess I believe a little. I mean, how can you not with all of this splendor around you every day? I just have a hard time compromising the idea of a benevolent God with what I grew up seeing around me. You know, between the warring Irish gangs, the poverty, and the fact that I lost both of my parents in the same fortnight."

"God brings us many trials to test our faith," Timothy began to mention. Lucy shook her head.

"If God is so all-knowing, why doesn't he just know how true a believer someone is? Why doesn't he intervene more? I'm not one to be tested!"

_Poor woman_, Timothy thought. _She's been tossed around so much she's lost her way. _

Yet, there was something about Lucy's passionate rant that made her cheek go redder, her breath quicken, and her chest heave. The way she was getting flustered was inciting some odd thoughts into the man's mind…

Perhaps a dim room lit by a single candle…a large bed in the corner…the shadows of the two of them flickering against the far wall. A tight embrace as the world outside went away and was replaced with the blackened winter's night…he in his night shirt and she in just a corset and pantalets. Her hands gently lingering over his clean-shaven face before wandering down his chest and abdomen…her wet lips moving from his own to the nape of his sensitive neck…him gently lying her down on the bed and undoing her corset strings as her legs wrapped around his hips…

Suddenly, Timothy snapped back into the present as he realized what his lustful thoughts were doing to him. Without looking down, he knew he had to make sure Lucy didn't either, or she would see how just a few moments of wandering daydreams could arouse him so fully. His 'member' was fully erect and barely concealed under his black trousers. Sinful and humiliating…

"I should get back," he suddenly cut off. Lucy jumped a little at the sudden interruption of the silence.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel bad about your religion—"

"—no, no! Not that. I just think a church picnic wouldn't be complete without the Reverend there, right?" he said quickly. Lucy looked hurt.

"I let my mouth run away with me all the time!" Lucy scolded herself. "I really am—"

"—I'll see you around town, then," Timothy sighed before quickly spinning on his heel and walking away without even offering Lucy herself an escort back to the social.

_Dearest Lord, please forgive my wandering mind…_

* * *

The next day, Timothy went to see Dr. Mike for a check-up of his eyesight, as well as the hole in his mouth where his infected wisdom tooth had been. He usually had the woman check up on him yearly ever since he had it pulled by Jake Slicker a few years back…in case something hadn't healed right and an infection could flare up.

"Well, Reverend," Michaela said cheerfully, putting her glass away after examining his eyes. "I'll put in the order for your spectacles, and they should be ready in about two weeks. I order glasses for my patients from Denver, so they will be here shortly."

"Thank you, Dr. Mike," Timothy said, blinking. "Even if I never get spectacles, I don't think I'd mind too much now that I know what it's like to not have any sight at all."

"I think you might be right. But it would probably be better if you did have them!" Dr. Mike's broad smile was contagious, and Timothy couldn't help but reciprocate. "Well, we'll just examine your tooth socket quickly and we'll be finished!"

"Should I lean back?"

Michaela nodded. Timothy obeyed by leaning back on his arms, giving her a better angle to examine his mouth. Usually, dental surgery was Jake Slicker's domain, but seeing as this was just a brief inspection, Dr. Mike could take care of it. She took a white towel and draped it over Timothy's chest, around his neck. He took this as a signal to open his mouth. Michaela took a small probe and used it to find the empty tooth socket.

"I saw you walking with the new young lady in town yesterday," she said. "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting her yet, but she is quite lovely."

Timothy couldn't respond orally, so he indicated his agreement with a slight nod.

"I didn't think anyone could have hair redder than Dorothy's, nor be quite as tall as some of the men around here, but I suppose it's a bit more common in women from cities. I can hardly remember how tall women got to be in Boston—"

Timothy rolled his eyes to the side to look out of the window, as if Lucy would be outside waiting for him.

"—I saw that Preston has certainly taken a liking to her. I've never seen him interested in any one person besides himself!" Michaela said before removing the probe. "Your socket is a little red…have you been having any pain lately, Reverend?"

Timothy shook his head, unable to get his mind off of the idea of Preston courting Lucy. Dr. Mike was right…Preston was behaving noticeably more courtly with Lucy than he had ever done before.

"Well I'm going to apply a bit of antiseptic to it just to be safe, it will take just a moment," Michaela assured. As she did so, using a tamper instrument, Timothy's mind flashed back to yesterday, and how abruptly he'd broken away from Lucy after his…indiscretion (which, of course, disappeared before he even made it back to the social). She probably thought he was incredibly rude.

The Doctor finished her work and removed the towel from the Reverend's neck. "You're all set now, Reverend!"

* * *

"Lucy, you're doing very well for your first day," Grace said cheerily as she and Lucy whisked up soiled plates from tables at the café. "I don't think I've ever seen Loren Bray tip so well in my life!"

"Thank you," she said quietly. She hadn't been able to get her mind off of what she'd done at the picnic. Her first Sunday in town, and she'd offended the preacher!

"There will probably be some slow time before the dinner rush, so if you'd like, you can get an hour's rest! I can handle things here," Grace suggested. Lucy smiled and bowed her head.

"That sounds nice, actually. I'll be back to do dishes around four," she promised.

However, before she could walk more than thirty feet, she saw Preston Lodge III walking towards her, holding a small bouquet of daisies. He was smiling confidently at her as he approached.

"Miss Lucile?" he asked.

"Yes, Mr. Lodge?"

"Please…" he asked, holding out the yellow flowers to her to take, "…call me Preston."

"Oh, thank you," Lucy said softly. "To what do I owe the honor?"

Preston removed his hat and looked her in the eye with an uncharacteristically genuine demeanor. "I was hoping you could meet me this Friday evening for supper, and perhaps a moonlit walk?"

Lucy shrugged. "I have work here—"

"—it can be after the usual supper time, around eight-thirty?" Preston badgered.

Lucy looked over her shoulder, hoping to see if Grace was listening. Instead, she saw the Reverend coming out of the medical clinic, lightly massaging his lower jaw with two fingers. He happened to notice her at the same time, and stopped in his tracks. He looked hurt just looking at her.

Lucy whipped her head back around to face Preston. "Preston, I would be honored to join you Friday night."


	4. The Date

_**Friday Night…**_

Timothy kneeled beside his humble bed to pray before he went to sleep every night. He prayed for every person in Colorado Springs, for every person from his past, for the weather, good crops, and good business for the town. Tonight he added a special prayer for himself…the first time he'd been selfish before God in a long time.

_Dear Heavenly Father, please forgive all of my sins I have committed in thought, word, and deed, and please make me worthy of your glory. Tonight I find myself in special need of your guidance. I will accept your will for my life, Lord, but I am feeling more a bachelor than ever before. In my own heart I have wanted a family of my own since I left my past and found You. I have attempted courting twice before, and neither time the woman was your choice for me, but I pray that you help me to gather the strength and courage I need to try one last time, God. Lucy Greene is such a spirited, beautiful, intelligent woman, and I know that I can lead her back to You as well. But that's not the only reason why I want to court her. I just feel as if she was left here for a reason, and that reason is to be with me. Again, Lord, I cannot know your Divine Will for both of our lives, but I pray that you look upon the both of us as lonely people who need each other and show us your plans for our lives. In Your Holy Name I pray…_

He conveniently left out the admission that he'd fantasized about her sexually twice more since Sunday. He figured the Lord knew his thoughts anyway, so there was no need to bring it up again. Ever, if possible.

* * *

Preston and Lucy had a relatively quiet supper that evening, followed by the promised moonlit walk (although the moon was obscured by thick, bleak-looking clouds that evening, and the air hung heavy with the promise of rain).

"So, enough about me, tell me a little more about you," Preston said after a lengthy discussion about his past. Lucy shrugged. "I mean, what's a gorgeous woman from New York doing in a tiny settlement like this?"

"There isn't much to say other than what I've told you already," she admitted. "What else would you like to know?" _Damn, this is a boring conversation. _

"Your interests, maybe? Your hopes for the future? I mean, you don't want to work at Grace's for the rest of your life, do you?" Preston snickered a little under his breath, as if Grace's café were a dirty ghetto worse than Hell's Kitchen.

Lucy sighed. "Well, I like reading about history, especially biographies of famous people."

Preston yawned and tried hard to conceal it.

"I also love animals, especially cats. The boarding house had eight wandering around to catch mice. And, I love dancing, even though the only lessons I've ever had were in the streets back in New York," Lucy's voice got softer and less confident as she went on. "I know that I want marriage and children, but I also want to opportunity to see more of the country, maybe even the world. I would need a man who was willing to take an equal role in raising our babies—"

"—equal? How?" Preston asked.

"Well, equal share in their education, discipline, as well as the cooking, cleaning, watching out for their health and caring for them in sickness."

"I suppose you get that from living in a city all your life. Trust me, I know what that's like," Preston said.

"You do now? How so? What makes us city people different from someone like Jake Slicker or Loren Bray?" Lucy asked, name-dropping a few of the people she'd become familiar with over the past week.

"City folks like us are raised with a certain maturity. We have to adapt to sharing smaller, more intimate surroundings with more people. We're exposed to a lot more when we're younger. Out here, morals take on a much stricter definition because people have never seen examples of what life is like without rules. In fact, even most men around here are expected to have never lied with a woman before they marry them!" he mused as they strolled down the main street. "Except for maybe those who frequent The Gold Nugget."

"I've never been with a woman," Lucy chuckled. Preston laughed.

"I don't suppose you have. But have you ever been—"

"—while I believe that is none of your business in particular, no, I've never slept with a man, either." Lucy felt her face getting warm. She hoped the conversation would get boring again, quickly.

"I didn't think so," Preston said.

"What do you mean by that?" Lucy replied quickly.

Preston stopped and turned to face Lucy. He gently places both of his hands on her elbows to pull her close to him. "Because you're so young and beautiful, so naturally you're a virgin. No man in his right mind would want to spoil you."

"SPOIL ME?" Lucy cried, suddenly outraged. "Listen, Preston, even if I'd slept with fifty men, I wouldn't be spoiled, as you call it. I still have my dignity, my independence, and my own set of rules! My love life is no concern of any man who would want to share my bed, and it is not equal to my worth as a woman and a person!"

"Alright, alright," Preston muttered, suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable. What a temper on this one! "I was just trying to be kind. You are very beautiful."

"I thank you for the complement and forgive you for your nosy indiscretion," Lucy said after a moment of thinking, lowering her voice once more. Preston continued to gaze into her eyes.

"I feel like I want to kiss you," he murmured gently. "But I feel compelled to ask your permission first."

"That would be a new twist," Lucy said, stone-faced. Preston stepped back and snorted.

"So you HAVE kissed men before?" he overreactingly asked. Lucy scowled.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. Twice."

"When?"

"I really don't feel like telling you," she said. "I honestly feel like going home and going to bed."

That was when the first rumble of thunder rolled overhead. Moments later, the rain followed in sheets as the beginnings of the storm moved in.

"I guess that's a sign that you're right," Preston sighed. "Come, I'll make sure you get there." He offered his hand to Lucy, who stared a moment at it with hesitation. "COME!" Preston urged.

Lucy finally took his hand, and the pair ran down the main street towards the hotel. The mud was thick, and it slowed them down considerably. Lucy began laughing as the hem of her good dress became stained.

Finally, they reached the hotel, and Preston led Lucy up the steps to under the porch overhang, so that they would at least be dry for a moment.

"I hope we don't catch cold!" Lucy moaned. Preston shrugged.

"It would be my honor to get sick on account of you, Miss Lucile," he crooned, taking her hand and kissing it delicately over the knuckles before finally letting it go. "I am sorry for offending you earlier. It's just…I'm a man who speaks before he thinks. I hope you understand."

"I do," Lucy agreed, nodding. Preston smiled.

"I would like to call on you again sometime, if you would allow it," he asked. Lucy looked out into the stormy night. She could see the church at the other end of town through all of the dark rain, only because a candle was lit in the window. In just another second, it was snuffed out.

Lucy turned to Preston again to answer him. "Maybe. Preston, I just got to town, and I feel like I need some air first."

"Well, the Rockies are the best place for fresh air—"

"—you know what I mean," she replied, giving a stern look that even a man like Preston couldn't misinterpret. "Tonight was fine…mostly fine, anyway. I need to think and have time to myself to settle in first. Then, as time goes by we can do something."

"So you want to? Just, after you're a bit more acquainted with the town?" Preston was beginning to badger Lucy to the point where she was uncomfortable, so to end the night, she nodded quickly.

"Yes."

It was as if an angel had shaken Preston's hand, and then left one hundred dollars in his palm. He grinned with victory.

"Then, may I leave you with one kiss? Until we meet again?" he suggested. Lucy nodded again with reluctance.

As they were nearly the same height, Preston did not have to lean down far to reach Lucy's lips. The kiss was pleasant, but also relatively mechanical and formal. Preston kissed by the book, as Shakespeare once described it.

It was the only kind of kiss that Lucy knew, so she didn't mind.


	5. Dancing in the Street

Once in a while, Timothy still thought of Louise Chambers, and how she was the closest he'd ever come to becoming a husband. She was as pretty and perky as a porcelain doll. While she was in town, everyone suspected that a wedding was soon to come for them...and it almost did. However, she had a dark side to her personality that he, in the end, could not tolerate. Louise believed in corporal punishment for children, and Timothy's soft heart couldn't think of hitting children, even if they weren't his own.

Timothy and Louise had a long history, even before she tried to move to Colorado Springs. He'd rejected once her as a boy. He didn't know what he wanted at the tender age of seventeen! Before he'd discovered her terrible true self years later, he'd so regretted doing so. He felt that seeing her again was serendipitous and the will of God. It had only turned out to be another test of his faith and his own morals.

The most tender memory he had of her was of teaching her the piano, then playing a lullaby for her, holding her hand over the keys, and then sharing with her a soft, holy kiss. Afterwards, he could never play the lullaby again. He had been in love with Louise to be sure. But even then, what perplexed him was he'd never had those lustful thoughts that he had with Lucy. And he wasn't even in love with Lucy! He'd only spoken with her just once!

He thought, perhaps, that it was his conscience tell him to make amends with Lucy Greene, and to explain that he really didn't leave her by the brook to be rude or because he was taken aback by her opinion. And he had to do it sooner rather than later.

* * *

Walking outside, the Saturday midday was glorious, if not a little humid from the rains the previous night. Putting on his hat and straightening his tie, Timothy decided immediately that he should go towards the hotel and call on Lucy directly. But then he thought the better of it, realizing that she would probably be working the lunch shift at Grace's anyway.

As he crossed the bridge to enter Colorado Springs' main road, he began to hear flute music drifting through the air, sounding like it was coming from outside of the general store. He smiled. Sometimes the people of the town still surprised him. Was it any wonder more people were settling in places like this? Surely in cities people didn't sit around outside, blowing on a flute or a harmonica.

He could see a small group gathered around what looked like three older men playing a flute, a fiddle, and spoons. A few children were dancing around them carelessly, and even a few young couples were stepping to the music. It was almost surprising to see Loren standing in the doorway to the shop, actually looking amused as opposed to annoyed (which he would be on most days regardless of who was blocking the entrance to his store). People clapped in rhythm, watching the dancers and giving the occasional 'whoop' to cheer them on.

As he made his way over, several of the onlookers greeted him with courtesy. Timothy smiled and began clapping his hands along with them.

That was when Lucy came out, twirling madly among the dancers, her purple skirt almost knocking a young boy over as it billowed out. Her feet were keeping rhythm in a most unusual way (and those boots had clearly seen better days). She was tapping with her heel instead of her toe, and skipping around in a way Timothy had never seen before.

"What's that one doing?" someone asked.

"I'm not sure…I think it's an Irish step."

"You mean a jig?"

Lucy's hair was loose today, and Timothy could barely see her face, for it was obscured by her bouncy hair as she moved faster and faster, eventually picking up double-time.

Then she stopped short, even as the music crescendoed. She looked straight at Timothy, her eyes stern and set. Timothy stopped clapping as she walked towards him, holding out her hand in offering.

"Dance with me?" she mouthed. Timothy couldn't hear her voice against the loud music and cheering crowd. He shrugged and shook his head. Lucy frowned.

"Please?" she mouthed. Before he could process his reply, Timothy felt himself being pushed forward towards her. He could only steady himself…by taking her hand.

Taking this as a 'yes,' Lucy brought him out into the center of the circle and took his arm. Confused and flustered, Timothy could only obey. He began smiling and laughing as Lucy led him around in circles faster and faster. After he regained his rhythm, Timothy suddenly took the lead (as the man should do in a dance) and took Lucy's waist. Lucy responded by putting her hand on his shoulder and letting him twirl her around, as if he were showing off his girl. Her face reddened, and they both began panting for breath.

The music built up one last time as they did a promenade step around the circle. After the song ended, everyone cheered and applauded the dancers. Lucy took Timothy's hand and bowed dramatically. Timothy laughed, took off his hat, and copied.

By the time he'd bowed, Lucy had let go of his hand and left the group entirely. Timothy saw her ducking past Loren into the store. The musicians took up a rendition of 'Beautiful Dreamer." Timothy went into the store after her, finding her where Loren kept the books. She was still catching her breath.

"Where did you learn to dance like that?" he asked softly. Lucy was startled, but kept her calm.

"Back in Brooklyn, us children would watch street performers play, and they'd let us request songs for a penny. Many of the children were Irish immigrants and they'd teach the rest of us how to step dance. It's what the peasants used to do to pass the time back in Ireland, they said," Lucy explained. "I'm pretty sure I have Irish ancestors too, but my parents and grandparents were born in New York."

"Sounds like fun," he replied.

"Dancing makes me miss home sometimes," Lucy sighed, browsing the spines of the books.

"Are…are you looking for a book in particular?"

Lucy shook her head. "Anything history," she mumbled. "I love reading about the old kings and queens of Europe."

"Even the tyrants?" Timothy asked.

"Especially the tyrants!" Lucy grinned. "You can learn the most from the failed rulers, don't you agree, Reverend?"

"I guess so!" Timothy replied. "I don't think you will find very much. Most of what Loren keeps are cookbooks and Bibles. Not that there is anything wrong with—"

"—very well. I guess I might as well give you what you came to me for," Lucy interrupted. She looked him in the eye, and Timothy could see there was some remorse in them.

"What do you think that is, Lucy?"

"An apology for my ramblings last week. I shouldn't be discussing secular thinking with a parson, and I should have closed my mouth and minded my own business. I keep forgetting I'm not in New York anymore. People out here are more religious, and trust me, I do believe in God…I just…question Him more than people out here. I really hope you can find it in you not to see what I said as an affront…"

Lucy rambled on like that for almost a solid minute. Without even thinking, Timothy put his index finger against her lips and hushed her gently.

"Lucy, I came here to apologize to YOU for being rude. You said nothing to offend me. I thought you were avoiding me because of how I left you by the creek at the picnic!" he said.

He removed his finger from her lip. Lucy admitted to herself how soft it had felt…so nice.

She opened her jaw to reply, but nothing came out. Instead, she just nodded and said too words: "Very well."

"You forgive me?" Timothy asked timidly. Lucy shrugged.

"I was never upset with you," she said. "More so I was upset with myself."

"I could never be upset with you," Timothy whispered.

"You obviously don't know me well enough, then," Lucy joked. "Maybe we should remedy that."

"Excuse me?" Timothy asked, startled.

"Get to know each other more sometime," Lucy suggested. "That way, you can learn enough about me to run away while you still can!"

They both laughed. After they subsided, they both stood there silently for a moment, listening to 'Beautiful Dreamer' playing outside. Lucy began swaying her hips to the song.

Timothy cleared his throat. "Do you play music as well as you dance to it?" he asked.

"I'm afraid not," she answered.

"Would you like me to teach you? I have a piano at the church, and I could show you how to play sometime."

"I…I have to get over to Grace's," Lucy stammered, suddenly darting past him and towards the door. Timothy's heart sank at her reaction.

But she turned back and said with confidence, "I'll come by tonight at eight o'clock. I'd like for you to teach me a song, Piano Man."

As far as Timothy's heart had been able to sink, it rose again in triumph twice as high.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**__ Whenever I feature music in a story, I like to let readers know about it so they can listen to it when they read the scene. The piece that inspired me to write the dance scene in this chapter was River's Dance from the TV show Firefly. You can find the song on Youtube!_


	6. Auf dem Wasser zu singen

_Waves…waves rippling over a small mountains stream…_

Lucy could hear Timothy's playing as she walked up the steps of the church. The music was soft, tranquil, and reminded her of the irregular rhythm of ripples in a freshwater tributary trickling along. She stood before the doorway a moment, just to take in the beautiful melody.

Timothy sat at the far end of the church, behind his pulpit, where the small piano had always been. He was concentrating hard on the piece, which was fairly complicated. He missed an occasional note, but he was enjoying every note he got correct.

Lucy opened the door and began walking down the aisle slowly. When Timothy heard her approaching, he stopped short.

Lucy frowned. "Keep playing. That's a lovely piece."

"It's a difficult piece for a reverend to get right," he replied. "But when I was little, it was a newly-composed song, and I'd listen to the man who owned the music shop practice it."

"It reminds me of the brook. It's very…watery."

Timothy looked up at her and smiled. "I always thought of a rain shower myself," he said. "But—"

"—it's so relaxing. I bet it would make a nice lullaby."

Timothy's heart fluttered. He motioned for her to come and sit by him on the piano bench. Lucy obeyed and sighed.

"There are so many keys on this thing. How do you know what key makes which sound?"

"You practice until your head remembers it on it's own," Timothy explained.

"I can't memorize song notes," Lucy mumbled. "I can remember words from books much better."

"Then maybe let's try it this way…would you mind…?" Timothy gestured as if he was about to take her hand. Lucy nodded her consent, and he picked up her hand—calloused and muscular—in his. He then laid her finger on a white piano key and tapped it. The sound was low.

"Now, Lucy, make up a word that will correspond only to that note," Timothy suggested. Luicy thought a moment.

"….to?"

Timothy nodded and continued to the next note…a few keys higher. He looked ast Lucy after she played it.

"Sing."

Again, he guided her hand to a key.

"On…the…water…"

"Now, let's review what you've done so far," he said gently, letting go of Lucy's hand and encouraging her to repeat. Lucy hit every note as she spoke the words.

"To sing on the water…" she smiled up at Timothy. He grinned with delight and took her hand again.

"You are a fast learner, Louise!"

Lucy's heart suddenly fell, and she pulled her hand away. "Who's Louise?"

Timothy instantly realized his mistake. "Oh no, Lucy—"

"—it's nice to know I'm so memorable," she sighed, getting up from the bench and gathering her skirt. "This was obviously not a good idea."

"Lucy! Wait! I can explain!" Timothy went up after her as she headed up the aisle and for the door. She stopped and turned back to him.

"Do I remind you of a former courtship or something?" she asked rather forcefully. She was certainly quick to anger.

"NO!" Timothy assured. He took her hand and beckoned her to sit with him in a pew. Lucy grunted but followed him. "Let me explain, Lucile. Please?"

"Fine," she said.

Timothy began explaining his past with a woman named Louise Chambers, and how he had intended to marry her until he learned who she really was.

"Wait…she did WHAT to her students?" Lucy asked.

Timothy nodded. "She took the concept of discipline too far. Many of them did very little to warrant the bruises and welts."

Lucy shook her head. "I pity her."

"Pity her?" Timothy asked, confused.

Lucy nodded. "She was clearly afraid of those children. No one gets physical against someone smaller than themselves unless they want something from them. This Louise was obviously trying to get her students to fear her so that she wouldn't have to fear them first."

"That's quite insightful," Timothy noted.

"I told you that I read a lot of history. Many despots in time had the same fear of the meek, because they knew that the meek were the source of their power. Without keeping them in control, they lose their power," Lucy said. "Like Caesar Augustus and King Henry VIII—"

"—the Pharaoh who kept the Israelites as slaves until Moses freed them?" Timothy offered.

Lucy smiled. "Precisely."

Timothy felt his face blush (luckily his beard hid much of the redness). "Lucy, you're such a smart woman, and kind…full of fiery passion…"

He didn't expect Lucy leaning in to gently touch her lips to his. She didn't hit them directly…she got the corner of his mouth with her lips. But the kiss was gentle and thrilling at the same time. Timothy pulled away after a moment to catch his breath.

"This is how it happened with Louise before," he warned. "I was teaching her piano…showing her where her fingers went…and we kissed—"

"—don't insult me," Lucy said stiffly. "I'm not that dragon lady. I would never lay a hand on a child like that. You have to see some differences between us!"

"Well, yes," he replied. "You're much less formal, and a lot easier to talk to."

_A start,_ Lucy thought.

"Louise always had some sort of need to be proper, which is fine. It would've made her a great mother. She just didn't like children." Timothy sighed and stared down at his feet. "I…I thought I'd forgotten her by now."

"You were tricked because of love," Lucy said. "I think I should go…"

She got up and went for the door, but stopped in the frame for a moment. "And I do want children, you know."

Timothy looked up at her. She looked particularly beautiful at that moment. The bright moonlight created another halo around her red hair, much in the way the sun had when he'd first seen her. God was here, looking out for his angel on Earth. The mere thought inspired him to stand up and brush off the bout of melancholia over Louise. "You do?"

"I haven't had them yet because most men don't like the way I want to raise them," she sighed.

"How, then?" Timothy asked. Lucy looked outside.

"I want to raise them equally with their father," she said. "I don't want to be a homemaker and child-rearer. I want their father to be equally involved in their healthcare, education, and raising. But most men I've meet feel like it's the woman's job to stay in the home."

"I see nothing wrong with that. In fact, I think that's ideal," Timothy said, approaching Lucy in the doorway.

"Well, that makes you more than any man I've ever met," Lucy whispered. Timothy leaned in closer to her in the doorway.

"Is Preston trying to court you?" he asked. Lucy nodded. "And…?"

Lucy shrugged. "I bought myself some time to make my up my mind."

"Make up your mind?" Timothy asked with patience.

"He's a decent sort, I suppose. Too haughty for me. But I think it's a little early in my tenure here to make rivals," she said. "But I am not romantically attracted to him."

Timothy felt his shoulders drop in relief.

"I couldn't possibly tie myself to such a scoundrel," she mumbled on. "He asked me about…my history."

"Oh? Oh!" Timothy took a second to realize what she was referring to.

"It was humiliating. And an example of why I don't want certain men as my lawfully wedded husband!"

Timothy nodded. "I understand."

Lucy looked up at Timothy and smiled. He wasn't ruggedly handsome like that husband of the town doctor, nor authoritative like the mayor, nor even dashing and witty like Preston. But he was even more than that. His gentle, kind eyes that had seen the ups and downs of life and yet smiled now at her as if nothing else mattered. His teeth were straight and only a little yellowed by age.

What's more, he listened to her. And cared.

"Will you be at church tomorrow?" he asked. Lucy grinned and nodded in the affirmative.

"I'm glad to hear it. Perhaps afterwards we can go back to the brook, you and I. And I promise I won't abandon you this time!"

Lucy giggled. "I have no doubt about that, Reverend—"

"—Timothy. I would be pleased if you called me Timothy."

* * *

The next morning was warm and wonderful. Lucy sat in the window of her little room overlooking the town and brushed her hair (always a long chore). She was given the afternoon off by Grace (it was, after all, Sunday), and she had decided to ask Timothy to teach her how to ride a horse. Yes, she really wanted to learn, too, but she also admitted to herself that she wanted more time with him. His was a personality that interested her deeply.

As she struggled with the yellow ribbon she was using to tied back her hair, her eyes followed a dusty stagecoach rolling through the street below, stopping in front of the store. After a moment, a woman was guided out by the coachman. A pretty blonde woman (at least 30) wearing a rusty red dress and cap stepped out into the sun. She looked rather dignified and sophisticated, but at the same time was clearly trying to make herself seems as small and invisible as possible. Lucy couldn't imagine why…she was pretty.

Her gaze was interrupted by a small stone hitting the window pane, startling her. She looked down and saw that it was Preston who'd thrown the pebble. He smiled and waved up at her.

Lucy gave a curt nod and moved away from the window awkwardly.


End file.
